Letter
by Dark Goddess
Summary: Osamu writes to a loved one


Disclaimers: Digimon Adventure is not mine, it belongs to some large corporation that I have no affiliation with. All characters were taken purposely and without permission for entertainment purposes only. And if anyone is making profit from this it surely isn't me! 

Note: This is an alternate universe, just for those who may not realize it. Also Osamu is attending a British college while Ken and everyone else is still in Japan. 

Letter 

Koneko, 

I know this is my second letter this week, which is very unusual in itself and there isn't anything wrong so please try not to get all worked up. The reason for this letter is that I have been thinking and I just wanted to talk about it—or in this case write about it—so, of course, the first person I thought of is you. You're always of my mind and it is a little troubling when I'm trying to write five term papers and read so many texts in English, no matter how fluent I am in the language. I don't blame you for this and I'm truly not upset with it. But that is not the point of this letter. 

I think I should start form the beginning as not to confuse you. 

I was sitting in class, literature class to be exact, and we were discussing one of our assignments. A short story by the name of "Peaches", you probably recognize it from your own Jr. High School lit. class. I, myself, was very surprised to it see on my syllabus. 

Well, as you know, this story is about memories, so that was exactly what we were discussing—memories, childhood ones to be exact. The professor asked if anyone had any warm childhood memories they would like to share and many students did. But what bothered me was that I could not think of one fond childhood memory, not one of warmth and happiness. This disturbed me. How could this be, I wondered, I didn't grow up so miserable so as not to have a memory of warmth and happiness. Yet as hard as I tired I could not think of one. I believe that I am looking for the one memory, which is the epitome of warm childhood memories.

I did, strangely, remember something that would be Ken's most precious childhood memory. It was the day he received this small toy rabbit, a furry white thing that held a carrot between its tiny round-tip paws. Ken loved this toy and never let it go, every where he went so went the rabbit. It was consider very cute by all except for myself. I think I hated that rabbit for taking my brother's attention away from me. Ken had always been by my side, he admired me greatly back then and tired to be just like me. Of course, now he can't stand the sight of me half the time and we argue like all healthy siblings with a large age difference. Not to mention he thinks he's smart them me—I wish I could back to those days when my word was law in his world, but then life would be boring and my parents would become tired of me picking on him.

Back to the rabbit, it is something that Ken still has. Stowed away in the far reaches of our room (now his really since I am rarely there) where no one can find it and make fun of him for having it. I remembered the way I use to treat the thing, it was always my hostage when I wanted Ken to do something for me. It was my punching bag when I was angry, even when the anger wasn't directed at Ken. I do believe I also hated that rabbit just for being there. The left ear is not parallel with right because I once tore it right out just to spite my brother, show him that I was still more powerful then him. He didn't speak to me for a whole two weeks, kaachan and tousan scolded me for almost an hour and no matter how many times I apologized Ken would not say a word to me, not even after kaachan stitched the ear back on. I don't exactly remember when he forgave me or why. I just remember how awful I felt for those two weeks. 

Anyway, I sat in class, as all the other students were sharing, wondering why on earth that memory came to me. It had nothing to do with the subject, it certainly wasn't a warm memory. More like a learning experience and I still could not think of anything that was really warm from my early childhood. 

My mind had wandered form one memory to another, some very happy others very sad, none were the _one_ I was looking for. I had one memory from when I was five and my tousan first taught me how to ride a bike, I fell six times before I finally got it (Ken only fell once when tousan taught him, I'm still jealous). I had another memory of helping kaachan make dinner one day. I didn't exactly cook, I was too young of course, but she would pick me up and let me stir the soup and other little things like that. I had been so proud of myself that day as I watched them eat what I had made. I'm laughing as I write this, the innocence of those days amuses me now. Though I find myself longing for it again, those were happier times. 

I know what you're thinking at this exact moment. You are right now calling me an idiot for not realizing that those memories are exactly the ones I am looking for. But you're wrong, neither of these memories are the ones I am looking for. Then what is this perfect memory that I am searching for, I really don't know. I do not even know what it must have to make it perfect, I just know that all the others lack it. I realized that while sitting in class as well. So I tired to think of memories past my childhood, maybe that perfect memory came after childhood and not during it. 

The first memory that came to my mind was the one of when I first met you. I wonder if you remember it. It was at that Oblivion Dust concert back then in high school. We were both reaching for the same T-shirt at the stands and our hands brushed. You looked at me and smiled apologizing then left to find another shirt, while I was left stunned by your beauty. But you probably don't remember that, you probably remember our second meeting as our first. That one-day at the school festival when I walked into your class' coffee shop and you served me the worst coffee that I will ever have in my life. And I don't care how many times you deny it, I know that you made that yourself. A lover's intuition is never wrong—just like a woman's—especially when the lover is as in love as I am with you. 

Anyway, after the shock of finding out that coffee could ever be that bad I asked you out. I couldn't exactly let the chance pass, it was obvious some one was giving me another chance to have you. And that was the beginning of thousands of wonderful memories, each one more special then the last. Each one holding a special place in my heart until I finally die and maybe even beyond that, I don't proclaim to know and I will not promise things that I do not know if I can keep. 

I remembered our first time together (by now I was just ignoring class all together). It had been different then all the other, I think it was because of that year of celibacy you put me through. Don't think I didn't understand why you didn't want to have sex in the beginning, I understood perfectly your need to take things slowly and I respected it, but I'm sorry to say my hormones weren't exactly happy about it. But staying faithful for so long had been an experience, one that I am using right now. I miss you, I miss your companionship, your voice, the feel of my fingers through your fiery hair. I long for the feel of your body against mine again, like that night, like all those other nights. I dream of you, of our first night together—I never did ask you if it was as perfect for you as it was for me. In my dreams you are here with me, holding me tightly as we are doing something or other, they never begin with us just having sex, it leads up to it. 

My mind continued to wander to when my brother proclaimed he was in love with an idiot and cried all night because said idiot had no idea he was alive. Do you remember how I would come to you, terribly upset because Ken was upset? You'd sit quietly with your legs folded under you and my head resting on your thighs, and just listen to me go on and on about Ken's dilemma. It would be so comforting, listening to you try and help after I had finished talking; feeling your fingers running through my hair as you gave me advice. That was until you couldn't take it anymore and went straight to Ken and yelled at him until he went and took care of his own problem. 

I wonder if you know how frightening you are when you are angering, I had never believed it when your brother would tell me. Always when I came to pick you up he'd tell me not to piss you off. The first time he said that I had asked him if that was a threat, he had just shrugged his shoulders and told me that it was a friendly warning. I still believed it had been a threat. That is until I saw you lose your temper myself, and I still thank god that you weren't angry with me. Since that day I never feared your brother coming after me, but of you coming after me. But you have always been the over protective one right, you protect your brother not the other way around. No one hurts Motomiya Daisuke and survives, na Jun? Sometimes I think you are a better sister then I am. But in my case brother right? Still you two still fight as much as Ken and I do so I suppose it just depends on how we show affections towards our younger siblings. 

I seem to have gone astray from the original topic and maybe it is because it was a stupid topic to beginning with. My memories are all precious I suppose, each one carries their own degree of warmth and happiness and others none at all. But they are all my memories, these memories—which are really experiences—which have shaped who I am today. 

I still am searching for that perfect memory though, the one that I will think about just before I die. And as I think back to all the hardships, to all the fights you and I have had, to all to all the fights Ken and I have had. I find myself realizing that life is just one pain in the butt. But then I think about all the good things: sitting in front of the TV with you watching a movie, that day I had taught Ken how to play soccer, the day kaachan and touchan bought me my own computer because of my academic achievements. I now realize that even though life is just one big pain in the butt, it's one pain that I am willing to deal with for as long as I am allowed to. 

You see, koi, we suffer now so that we can be happy latter, the biggest proof of this is going to school. Do you really think I love getting up at seven in the morning for an eight o'clock class! Learning is great and everything but sleep is better (especially if you are in bed with me). Yet I get up so that later, when we're older, we'll be able to live together comfortably—that is if you actually ever let me marry you. Not that I'm proposing now! Neither of us is really ready for such a step.

I know you're laughing at me right now, Jun. You probably think I am being sentimental and silly and so many other things. You probably also believe that all this is due to loneliness. Well I think you are partly right and partly wrong. For I do miss you, all of you, but this is also a truth that has been inside of me for a long time. One that I never realized until Professor Joyce brought up this question and I sat here and started writing this letter. Can you tell that I just put down ideas on paper? I'm sending this to you as a first draft really, no changes, just a perfect stream of conciseness. The inner workings of my mind is very scattered, can you tell koi? You probably already knew that. 

I'm going to stop here, the post will close in an hour and I want to send out this letter today. Send my love to everyone please. I miss you love, can't wait for summer break. 

With love,

Ichijouji Osamu 

Well there it is my first Jun/Osumu fic. I hope it's good. I think I'll write a sequel to this. Jun replying back to him, but I'm not sure if I should. I'm always apprehensive when it comes to sequels. 


End file.
